Why Do I Attract Selfish Zedheads?
by KnightFury
Summary: Another attempt at looking at the world through Beth Lestrade's eyes...
1. Disappeared Without a Trace

I haven't seen or heard from Sherlock all week long. Heh, I'm starting to think that maybe he thinks he doesn't have to make so much zedding effort now we're engaged. If he thinks that he's gonna find out how wrong he can be.

Where the zed is he? Every time my phone rings I hope it's him - even though I've given him his own special ring tone - and I wish he'd hurry up and call. Zed! How hard can it be?

When Watson proposed to Chelsea, he didn't disappear afterwards like he'd caught her and didn't have to worry any more. They'd go out almost every night - they still do! - why the zed am I stuck here, staring at my zedding phone?

I'm just starting to pace when I hear a car door slam. I can't get to the window fast enough. Yes! It's his car! About zedding time Holmes! You're gonna get both zedding barrels now.

I get away from the window and put the kettle on. He'll sure as zed want a cup of tea. I'm not gonna shout at him the second he gets in through the door. I'm not completely heartless.

I've just poured the hot water into our cups when two strong but skinny arms wrap themselves around me. I'd say he's lucky as zed I didn't have the kettle in my hand, but I know him better than that - he was watching me and waited for me to put it down.

"Good evening Beth," the most annoying man I ever met whispers in my ear. "Did you miss me?"

I elbow him roughly.

"Ow!"

"Is that a trick question?" I snap at him as I spin on the spot to face him. "I've been worried sick! Where the zed've you been?"

He's holding his side where I poked him. "I would have called had it been possible."

"What's wrong? I didn't jab you that hard, did I?"

Holmes grimaces and slowly lowers his hand to his side. He's hurt! "No. You simply surprised me; I anticipated a kiss, not a poke to the stomach."

"I'm not a zedding idiot Sherlock - I can see you're hurt. Has John or Watson had a look at you?"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You are as observant as ever I see. Yes, I have permitted John to tend to me and I can assure you that it is nothing serious."

"Uh-huh. I've heard that before. You'd pass zedding pneumonia off as a 'sniffle' if you thought you could get away with it. What's wrong, huh? No, it's OK; I'll just ask John - I know he'll tell the truth."

He sniffs. "I do not lie."

I snort. "Well, when it comes to your health you sure as zed don't tell the truth. What d'you call that? 'Fibbing'?"

He glares back at me but doesn't answer. I'll chalk that up as a point to Team Lestrade then.

"Well? Gonna tell me, or do I have to call John? Don't think I won't Holmes," I pull my phone out of my pocket to make sure he knows I mean it. "I'll call him now, if you want."

"It is nothing really," he assures me quickly, in his smooth, reassuring way and a smile that's meant to say that he's either fine or going to be. "A mere trifle as a result of my own clumsiness."

Uh-huh. I'm used to this track as well. I just fold my arms, tap my foot and quirk an eyebrow at the guy. "Holmes..."

"I fell off of a roof - a low roof - onto another roof. It could have been much worse."

"Zed! That's a no-brainer! What were you doing on a zedding roof, low or not?"

He rubs at his side again - it must be sore. "Chasing a criminal - an agent of Moriarty's."

"And?"

"Oh," he flashes me one of his dazzling smiles that can nearly - but only nearly - make me forgive anything. "We caught him. He is being held at New Scotland Yard. Would you like to visit him?"

"That's good, but it isn't what I meant. What happened after you fell off the roof?"

"Hum. Your ancestor was tenacious as well," he mutters, tutting. "He would not have made such a fuss though; as long as we caught our criminal..."

I could slap him - I really could! "My ancestor wasn't engaged to be married to you - there's a difference. Now what happened?"

He shrugs and sniffs again. "It was raining and the roof was slippery - my shoes could not grip the tiles."

"And I'm guessing you didn't even think about using a rope. No, o' course not. You're Sherlock zedding Holmes, why would you need a rope? Zed! You know, sometimes I think I'm gonna be your widow before I get to be your wife! Why can't you just be careful?"

He shrugs. "In my day, there was no such thing as Health and Safety; it is difficult for me to remember such things."

I really could punch him! If he wasn't already hurt I might not be able to help myself. Zed! He drives me crazy!

"I am sorry Beth. I did not realise that I had done anything wrong," he gives me another little smile.

I can't keep it up. I just can't stay mad at him. Still, I'd better see that he knows why I'm so mad while I still am. "You haven't called - or even emailed or texted me - all week. D'you realise how worried I've been? Zed Sherlock! How can you stand there and say you didn't know you'd done anything wrong?"

Ha! That's wiped that smile off his face. He's holding up his hands now and he looks sorry. "My sincerest apologies my dear, but it was unavoidable. When one is up against Moriarty, one must be on one's guard; I did not dare contact you for fear of putting you in danger..."

"Zed! I've never heard such crap! I'm a Yardie Sherlock - I face danger every single zedding day!"

He blushes and looks at his feet. "You are also my fiancée. I cannot help it Beth - I love you and wish to keep you as safe as is possible."

So that's it. I sigh and pull him in close to me, being careful of his hurt side. "Yeah, OK, I get it. It's just... I love you too and I wanna know that you're OK and stuff. You could at least send a text now 'n' again, to let me know how you are."

He nods quietly and sniffs again.

"Got a cold Holmes?"

"No." He wouldn't admit it if he did.

"Good; you won't mind giving me a kiss then."

He doesn't either, so he's definitely not feeling bad. I smile and hug him when we're done.

"I am sorry that I frightened you," he whispers. "It was not my intention."

'Course it wasn't! He's not malicious. He just doesn't always think about how other people feel - especially when he's trying to protect them.

"Am I forgiven?"

I shrug. "Guess so." Why should I give in too easy?

"I cannot help being the way that I am Beth. And you did know me quite well enough before I proposed to you. Why are you angry now?"

I shove him away. "Because you also know me you idiot! We've worked together enough - you know I can handle myself!"

"I am truly sorry. Very sorry."

I wish he wouldn't use that tone with me! He knows it always makes me feel like a zed head just for shouting at him.

"Just... Just think a bit more about how I feel, OK? That's all I want."

He nods with his eyes down. They're a little shiny.

"What is it Sherlock?"

He swallows awkwardly. "I do think of you, you know. It is just that..." he stuffs his hands in his pockets and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. "Moriarty... Moriarty might have killed Watson while we were in Switzerland together. I knew it well enough and tried to send him away but my words upset him and I could not bring myself to insist. I could have lost him Beth! It could have been so very different..."

"Holmes," I touch his shoulder and squeeze it gently. "You can't keep torturing yourself over what might've happened, OK? It never does anyone any good."

He nods and shrugs his shoulders. "I know. I cannot help it. I do not - I could not lose either one of you Beth. I..." he shakes his head and looks away. "I do not believe that my heart could bear it."

So that's it! I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. "If you let us work with you, you won't lose us. Now, let me make us a fresh cup o' tea; I'll bet the ones I started are stewed as zed."

He really does drive me crazy, but at least we understand each other now. I always thought that Holmes is a lot softer behind that cold mask of his than most people'd ever suspect, but he's even surprised me!

We sit down together, drink our tea and talk about other things. At least we both know how the other one feels now.


	2. An Over-Excited Flat Mate

"When're you and Sherlock getting married?" Chelsea asks when she comes in. Watson's walked her home.

Zed! I wish she'd stop asking me! Watson fixed a date for their wedding ages ago and it just feels like she's rubbing it in now.

"Sorry Beth," she says quietly. "I'm just so excited! I mean, Chelsea Watson sounds miles better than Chelsea Street, don't you think?"

I try not to smirk. I can remember Sherlock making fun of her name when she was first dating Watson. "Loads better."

"And he's so kind and considerate," she goes on, spinning on the spot like an over-excited teenager. "He's the one Beth."

I've heard it all before and I'm sick as zed of it. It's not that I'm jealous - and Watson and his fiancée sure as zed deserve to be happy after what they went through when they were going out in the early days - it's just that I don't wanna hear about weddings when Sherlock isn't in any hurry at all.

"I'm gonna go look at dresses with my mother tomorrow," my flat mate says suddenly. "I'd love it if you came too. I'd like you to meet Mum before the wedding."

Do I have to? "What time? I'm on an early shift tomorrow." So I'm probably gonna be tired 'n' irritable after a long day.

"Well, we'll probably be out all day, so why don't we meet for lunch 'n' take it from there?"

"OK Chelsea," I agree kinda reluctantly. "If you really want me there."

She nods eagerly and beams a smile at me. "I do! It'll be great! It's been zedding ages since we had any fun together."

Yeah, and this is really gonna be fun...

I feel a little better when Holmes remembers to call me. I expected him to forget everything I said the minute he left my apartment.

"You look miserable," the guy says, just as I'm about to tell him that the welt I noticed under his eye earlier is shaping up to become a real impressive shiner.

I shrug. "Chelsea's asked me to join her and her mother and look at wedding dresses when I finish work. I'm not looking forward to it, if you really wanna know."

"Why ever not?"

I rub at my eyes. "For one thing, I'm sick as zed o' hearing about weddings. For another thing, I'm gonna be tired after a long shift and I'll have to try 'n' give Mrs. Street a good first impression or she might not like the idea o' Chelsea living with me - you know how mothers are."

He grimaces and looks away. "Indeed. Mothers are always very protective of their offspring."

There's a strange edge to his voice that I don't understand. I've never seen him react like that before. "What's wrong Holmes?"

He shrugs and gives me a very strained and forced smile. "Nothing at all! Why do you ask?"

Because he's acting zedding weird! There's no point in going on though - if he doesn't wanna talk to me he won't. I just shrug.

"Why are you so fed up with weddings?" Sherlock asks. "You are not regretting our engagement, are you?"

"No," I tell him quickly. "It's not that. It's just that it's all I've heard about from Chelsea since Watson fixed a date for their wedding and..."

He nods. "And I give the impression that I cannot be bothered to do the same."

"Yeah." I feel bad for admitting it, but he always says that honesty is what keeps couples and families together. I sure hope he's right.

"My apologies Beth. There is a reason for my hesitation."

"You're not getting second thoughts, are you?"

He shakes his head hastily. "Hardly that my dear! No, no. No, nothing of that sort. I merely... There are things that I must do first."

"You're not planning anything extravagant, are you?" I remember learning at school that Victorians liked to go bigger and better than their peers. Sherlock Holmes isn't like that, is he?

He smirks at me. "Oh, I was considering parachuting into the church grounds from a balloon. Would that be too extravagant for your taste?"

"Very funny."

He chuckles and then throws back his head with one of his barks of laughter.

"Are you feeling OK?" I ask playfully, making sure I hide the worry I'm starting to feel. "You didn't knock your head when you fell, did you?"

He snorts. "Not at all. I am merely feeling happy - I have missed you."

Aw! "I missed you too."

He nods and winces. "We should make more time for one another - you were quite right to be angry with me. When is your day off, this week?"

"Friday."

"Then I shall do my utmost to keep Friday case-free."

"Great! So will I."

We're both a lot happier by the time we end the call. Then I see about finding something to eat (Chelsea ate when she was out with Watson) and getting ready for bed early so I'm feeling human when I get up early tomorrow. Being a Yardie isn't all cases, car chases and excitement.


	3. The Importance of Research

I'm tired as zed. My shift was long and pretty boring - a burglary in Camden Town, a fight outside a monorail station in the early hours and a car theft - very low-level police work. Holmes would've yawned all through the proceedings.

Boring it might've been, but it was busy. I've hardly had time to snatch a coffee and I'm starving by the time I clock off. Zed! I need a bathroom too - I don't really know how I managed to wait this long and I'm tempted to get back to the Yard and go before I explode. No, Chelsea's waiting and she did say we'll get lunch before we do anything else - I know it's a legal requirement to have public toilets in all restaurants and cafés and I can wait until I reach one.

I call Chelsea as I'm driving, only to find out that she's not ready for lunch just yet and that she's waiting impatiently for me. She wants to hear my opinion - on a dress. I'm not sure I'm really qualified!

I squeeze my legs together in my seat. It's no good, I'm gonna have to find somewhere to go before I meet up with my flatmate.

"What's wrong Beth?"

I wriggle in my seat. "I haven't stopped is all."

"Neither have I," she growls impatiently. "Zed! Stop thinking about your stomach for a second. You're as bad as John!"

It's not my stomach I'm thinking about. "I have to go to the bathroom. I've had to for hours - I'm just about bursting here." And Holmes - who's always warning everyone that he's real self-centred - wouldn't have had to be told because he'd know just by the look on my face and my posture.

"Oh. Well I guess you'd better find one first then."

Zed! Thanks for giving me permission Chelsea. Holmes wouldn't be like that about it either. "I guess so, yeah."

When I find Chelsea she's annoyed. Her mother likes one dress, she likes another and they can't agree.

"Thank zed you're finally here," she hisses in my ear when she hugs me. "I was starting to think you'd gone home or something."

I wish I had. My stomach's hurting from holding my bladder so long and I'm real tired. I don't really wanna spend all afternoon wandering around the town looking at dresses.

"Come 'n' see this one - I like this one," Chelsea grabs my hand and drags me inside a shop that's full of mostly brightly-coloured dresses.

The dress that Chelsea likes is bright zedding red! I'm not Victorian and I know what red dresses symbolised in Holmes' and Watson's era. Zed! Hasn't she done any research or talked to her fiancé before she started shopping?

"You can't get a red dress," I tell her firmly. "Watson'd be mortified and Holmes'd never forgive you."

"Why?"

Why? Do I really have to tell her why? "You just can't. Zed! Don't you know what red symbolised when a woman wore it? Haven't you ever heard o' ladies o' the zedding night?"

"Oh! John knows I'm not one on those."

"That isn't the point!" Why can't she understand? "He'd think everyone else'd think you're one and he'd be upset. You've gotta have a white dress."

She grimaces and wrinkles her nose like a spoilt child that isn't getting her way. "I hate white - it makes my bum look big."

Carry on like that and I'll tell you why your butt looks too big, lazy zed head. I'm not in the mood for this. "White is the colour a bride'd wear in Watson's era."

"She's right sweetheart," Mrs. Street says smoothly as she joins us. It looks like she's just gone 'n' found an assistant. "In the Victorian era, white symbolised virginity."

My flatmate waves a hand impatiently. "I don't see why that's so important. Oh Beth! Don't look so shocked - you're a 22nd Century girl too."

"Maybe, but I at least try to understand my fiancé. It's important to him, isn't that enough?"

She grimaces. "I guess so. But most o' the girls I went to school with lost their right to wear a white dress before they were even zedding sixteen."

Just so long as she hasn't. Being a doctor, I think Watson'd notice.

"What?"

"Come with me a minute," I grab her by the arm and drag her off to the fitting room with the white dress that Mrs. Street likes. "Let's see if we can work something out. Why don't you go on picking out more dresses for Chelsea to try on Mrs. Street? I'm just gonna help her into this one."

"I don't like this one!" Chelsea snarls at me as I shove her into one of the cubicles. "What the zed're you doing? Whose wedding is this - mine or yours?"

"Can it," I growl at her. "Just listen a minute. This is Watson's big day as well and he's my friend too. Right? Now, as his bride, you should want to please him. Have you even asked him what he wants 'n' expects? Have either of you talked at all?"

She waves her arms angrily. "The guy just says he's happy if I am. 'Sides, I don't see how it's any o' your zedding business Beth."

"Believe me, you don't want an angry Sherlock Holmes on your case later - I'm trying to save your skin, as he'd say. Now, would you still be allowed to wear white if you were a Victorian girl?"

"What d'you take me for?"

"I'll take that as a 'no', huh?"

She clenches her teeth and balls her hands into fists. "If I had my way, I would've lost my virginity to the captain o' the football team when I was fifteen, but my parents were real strict. OK? Can we skip the interrogation now?"

That's a relief! I know Watson'd be shocked if she had - and hurt. Why Chelsea can't see that I don't know.

"That's great. That means Watson won't think you're a hypocrite and more besides if your wedding dress is white - so we can skip the zedding interrogation and you can try this zedding dress on. Right now."

She huffs and grumbles but I get the thing on her. I like it - I'd wear it - and I say so.

"You get it for your zedding wedding then."

I shrug and try not to sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself. "By the time Holmes fixes a date it'll probably be way out of fashion."

"The guy's Victorian - it's not like he'd notice."

I smirk at her. "The guy's Victorian - he knows about fashion trends. Show him something o' yours that you bought a couple o' years ago 'n' ask him how old it is - a top, a shoe, an earring, anything - he'll surprise you."

"Huh!"

"Besides, I like this dress on you - and I don't think it makes your butt look big. You look lovely."

She stares at me for a long moment. "Really?"

"Chelsea, I'm a Yardie - we're not meant to lie. 'Sides, I wouldn't tell you you look great if you don't."

She smiles at me. "Thanks Beth. I'm glad you're here - Mum's just kept on saying I've gotta have a white dress without even listening to me, like what I think doesn't mean zed."

"Yeah, I understand," I assure her quickly. "But throwing screaming fits won't get you zed."

"She just makes me so mad! And I'm nervous enough about this wedding as it is, without her making it worse."

Maybe she should tell her that, instead o' going on like a spoilt brat.

"Right, OK Chelsea, here's what we'll do... We'll let your mom pick out dresses for you and you'll try 'em on without a tantrum. Then we'll decide which one works best for you 'n' take it from there. OK?"

She nods and looks at the floor. "OK Beth."

Great! Now we're getting somewhere.


	4. Is Holmes Horrible?

It's four o'clock - what Holmes and Watson call 'tea time' - when we finally head for a burger bar. It's been twelve whole hours since I ate anything and I feel weak and sick with hunger. On the plus side, Chelsea's got her dress and her mother's happy. It has to be a zedding miracle!

"I hear that you're also engaged to be married Beth," Mrs. Street says suddenly. "When's the happy day?"

I shrug and fiddle with the straw in my drink. "It hasn't been arranged yet. My fiancé feels that long engagements are wise."

"It sounds to me as if he prefers being single."

Chelsea splutters and nearly sprays cola everywhere.

"Please try to control yourself Chelsea. You are not a little girl," she turns back to me. "My advice would be to watch your fiancé very closely Beth."

"If it was anyone else, I'd probably agree with you Mrs. Street," is all that I say. I know Holmes too well to think that he'd play around. Not in the way she means, anyway - he's more likely to run off and forget me when an interesting case comes along, not a prettier woman.

After lunch, I make an excuse and head for home. I'm tired 'n' not feeling great. I get in, throw on some cropped pyjamas and curl up on the couch with the lights turned to a cosy glow and a favourite show on quietly on the TV.

The bell rings at just after six and I answer it grudgingly. It's probably Watson calling for Chelsea, not knowing that she's gone out 'n' probably won't be back until the shops are closed.

"I am sorry," Holmes says quietly before the door's even properly open as he holds out a big bunch of roses to me. "I am sorry that I did not consider your feelings. I am sorry that I have a tendency to disappear for days on end and worry you..." then the eye that isn't swollen shut flicks over my clothes and my face. I was right about that black eye. "Are you all right my dear?"

Am I all right! How's his side, I wonder, and has he got any other injuries that he never mentioned? I just nod and take the flowers from him. They're a mix of red and yellow roses and they come already in a vase. I bet they cost him a fortune!

"The red is a symbol of my love and the yellow is for friendship... I did not quite know what I wished to say," he explains with a shrug.

I kiss his cheek. "You're forgiven, OK? You really don't have to keep apologising."

"I upset you."

I shrug. "I expect I've upset you sometimes. Nobody's perfect, OK?"

He nods quietly and steps inside. "What are you watching?"

I feel my face turn hot. "A show I always loved as a kid. I haven't seen it so much lately and I kinda missed it."

"May I watch it with you?"

I'm not sure how he'd feel about an actor playing him, but I agree nervously. We sit together and he wraps an arm around me as I start the episode from the beginning for him.

Holmes doesn't have much to say about Jeremy Brett's portrayal of him and that really surprises me. He does say that he doesn't wave his hands about so much (even though he does - especially when he gets excited), but he doesn't seem to be very put out and even admits that he was a great actor. I shouldn't be surprised really; Sherlock always acknowledges talent when he sees it.

"I should like to have had words with the fellow that wrote that script," he grumbles when the show's over. "But it could be Watson who is to blame - he did have a dreadful habit of embellishing or even completely altering the facts to suit his purposes as a writer."

"You've gotta admit, it worked well for TV."

"Hum."

"Wanna watch another one?"

We end up watching a whole batch of 'em. Holmes makes a few comments - most of 'em being that he'd never do this, or react like that and I have to keep reminding him that the actors all had a difficult job to do. After all, how can you get someone right enough to make 'em seem real if you never met 'em?

"Touché Lestrade," he nods. "All right, I shall let it go and simply enjoy it in its own right."

And he does for all o' two zedding minutes. Then he thumps the arm of the couch and sits up straighter.

"I say! I would never have upset poor Watson like that! 'Done remarkably badly' indeed!"

I snort with laughter. "Actually, you did - it's in his journal - and you told him not to do anything because he was depressed afterwards."

He looks shocked. "Did I? Am I truly so horrible?"

"Maybe we shouldn't watch any more, huh?" He looks as if he's getting upset. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut.

He shakes his head and settles down again, but he still looks upset. "Forgive me. I did not mean to spoil it - would you like to play it back? I believe we have missed rather a lot."

I shrug and does as he asks, but I pause it a minute. "Are you sure you wanna watch this?"

He nods and smiles at me. "Yes."

OK then. I start it up again, but I keep one eye on Holmes this time. There are parts that he likes - he even laughs in places - and he doesn't protest that he isn't played right any more. I know that it can be quite a shock to see what you can really be like and I guess he doesn't wanna find out just how accurate the show's portrayal of him really is. I guess I wouldn't like to see myself when I'm mad or disappointed in someone either - maybe I'd be just as shocked and disgusted as Sherlock was.

"Well," he says when I switch the TV off. "Well, that was certainly interesting. Do I truly behave like that?"

I shrug. "It depends what kind o' mood you're in really. You can be kinda abrupt when your mind's on your work and I guess you can be a little..."

"Horrible?" he offers nervously.

I'm not gonna agree - he still looks really upset. "No, not horrible. Just... Well... OK, maybe sometimes you just don't think about what you're saying because you're mad, upset or disappointed - but nobody does when they feel like that. I know I don't."

He shrugs and looks away. "The actor that played Watson's part..."

"David Burke," I tell him helpfully.

He nods and swallows. "He looked so very upset when I... That is, when the actor who played my part... I mean..."

"Sherlock..." I squeeze his arm. "Look, they have to make their parts believable - that was the whole reason you enjoyed it, right?"

He nods again and sniffs. "It was very well done."

"Yeah," I agree. "But didn't you watch Jeremy Brett - that's the name o' the actor that played you - didn't you watch his face in the scene where he scolded his Watson?"

He shrugs. "I was rather too busy trying to remember my exact words to my Watson."

I really shouldn't have let him watch the show! "Well I was. I don't know how you reacted, but the way Jeremy Brett thought you would is pretty obvious - his expressions said it all. Watson's upset. Zed! He wants to hear that he didn't really do that badly. I could take it back and make him feel better. If I take it back he won't learn though and he does need to learn."

He nods and forces a smile. "I probably would have thought like that."

"Probably. Besides, in Watson's journal, he actually said that you told him exactly where to hide and stuff before he went off, so it's no wonder you were so mad."

He stares at me for a moment with his mouth open and then a relieved smile spreads across his face and he throws back his head and laughs. "Yes! Yes, I remember that. I was furious with the fellow at the time - there is nothing more frustrating than having a partner that will not pay attention. Ha! At least the fellow deserved my anger."

"You could've been nicer about it."

"Pah! I was angry and I had every right to be. Besides, the fellow did learn from it - I never had to repeat myself."

Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to make excuses for the guy.


End file.
